


His Scylla Girlfriend

by Stark_Raving_Madlad



Series: Once Upon a Blind Date [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Cecaelias, Cooking Competition, F/M, Human/Monster Romance, Magic, Octopus Mermaid, Porn With Plot, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Scylla - Freeform, Tentacle Sex, scylla sex, slice-of-life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26393416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stark_Raving_Madlad/pseuds/Stark_Raving_Madlad
Summary: Jack is a human novelist. Deirdre is a scylla who aspires to be a chef. This is the story of their everyday life together.
Relationships: Human/Scylla
Series: Once Upon a Blind Date [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917178
Kudos: 9





	His Scylla Girlfriend

**Author's Note:**

> Please be sure to begin by reading Part One of the story: "[Once Upon a Blind Date](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380057)".

Deirdre was a scylla. She appeared to be human from the waist up, but from the waist down she had the body of an octopus, very bright and tropical in color—fuchsia, mottled with flecks of orange and blue. Despite the fact that her eight tentacles were all independently writhing and wriggling beneath her, Deirdre was standing upright upon them just as easily as Jack stood on his own two legs.

Deirdre's human half was gorgeous: the only article of clothing she wore was a seashell bra, which barely restrained her impressive, melon-sized breasts. Her human skin was fair, with cute red freckles; and her long, red hair framed an attractive, heart-shaped face.

"I hope you like clam chowder," she said, holding up a goodly-sized soup-bowl and ladle. "It's sort of my specialty."

"I… like it just fine," said Jack, doing his level-best to keep his voice even. He had been staring at Deirdre's tentacles this entire time, hoping to spy a pair of feet hiding among the writhing mass, any evidence at all that this might have merely been an odd-looking dress and a freak optical illusion, or part of some strange prank. But now that it was clear that there were no feet to be found, he couldn't help himself. "That… that isn't a dress, is it? Those really are your—uh, your arms."

Now it was Deirdre's turn to gape dumbfounded at Jack. She blinked a few times, and then her jaw dropped—for a moment, she looked like a surprised goldfish. Then, in a very timid voice, she said, "You can see my—my tentacles?"

"Well in all fairness, they _are_ pretty hard to miss," said Jack, still fighting to keep his voice light. He didn't want to sound at all accusatory.

"Oh. Oh, wow." Deirdre actually became a few shades paler; she looked as if she were going to faint. She moved over the dinner-table, her octopus-arms squelching underneath her as she walked–slithered–glided across the room. Deirdre's peculiar locomotion was somehow both jarring and graceful at the same time, the overall effect of which was that her boobs jiggled in an eye-catching manner with every "step" of a tentacle, but thanks to the overall rolling motion that carried from one sucker-lined arm to the next, she managed to keep the soup-bowl perfectly level in her hands until she was able to set it down on the table. Then she pulled out one of the chairs and sank into it, a look of fearful anticipation on her lovely face. "This must be such a shock to you," she said. From her tone, Jack could tell that she expected him to flee screaming out into the streets.

"Well… I'll admit, I didn't believe that there could be such things as—as mermaids until now. But…" Jack shrugged, "I like to think I'm open minded. I read a lot of science-fiction and fantasy, and that's probably why I'm not freaking out right now." He paused. "I _should_ be freaking out right now, shouldn't I?"

Deirdre smiled weakly. "That _is_ how most guys normally react when I finally show them the real me. But I've never sprung the fact that I'm a—a—a _monster_ with squicky tentacles instead of legs—on a guy during the first date."

"I don't think you're a monster," said Jack, walking over to the dinner table and sitting down. "But now you have gotten me curious. How do you hide being a… an octopus-mermaid? And how did you become one?"

"Then… you're still interested in our date?" asked Deirdre. Her voice was still meek, as if she feared rejection, and there was no disguising the hint of hope in it.

Jack thought about how disastrous all his other recent dates had been, and how much nicer and more normal Deirdre seemed, even in spite of the fact that she had the lower half of a mollusk. "More than ever," he admitted.

"All right," said Deirdre. "Let's have dinner, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

And so, while Deirdre ladled out the chowder and sliced up some freshly-baked bread, Jack thought about what intrigued him the most. Finally, he decided upon what he wanted to ask. "So, I guess my first question has to be, are there others like you, or are you—unique?"

"I guess that's fair," said Deirdre. She smiled, relieved that Jack had opened his interrogation with such a simple and practical question, and not something creepy or mean. "Yes, there are more of me—er, more of us. We're our own whole separate species of merfolk."

"So what do you call yourselves? Are you, like, 'Octo-folk', or—" Then Jack suddenly snapped his fingers and said, "Hey, wait a sec. I remember reading somewhere that an octo-maid is called a 'cecaelia' or something like that, right?"

Deirdre's expression darkened. "I'm a scylla. That _other_ word," she refused to repeat it herself, "was just made up by some random nut on the internet with a fetish. Please don't say it again, my people consider it a slur."

Jack looked mortified. He threw his hands up and said, "I'm sorry! I didn't know, or else I'd never have—"

"It's okay," said Deirdre, her features softening. "Of course you didn't know; you couldn't have." She sighed sadly and averted her eyes. "But that awful _c-word_ went totally mainstream after Wikipedia and Disney picked up on it, and now it's just kind of a sore spot for us scyllas, okay? Also, just to be totally clear, we _really_ don't like being called 'sea witches' either."

Jack crossed his hand over his heart and said, "I do hereby solemnly swear that I will never, ever mention Ursula in your presence."

That succeeded in breaking the tension. Deirdre giggled. "Good. Then we'll get along just fine."

"So," continued Jack, "are 'scyllas' related to regular mer-people? That is, _are_ there regular mer-people? With fish halves?"

Deirdre nodded. "There are. And I suppose we must be related somehow, although nobody's ever proven it. But it is a fact that scyllas and merfolk can have children together. Same as scyllas and humans, or humans and merfolk, or any other match between humans and demihumans. So it's not even strictly accurate to call us all separate species, when you get right down to it."

"Really," said Jack. "That's pretty interesting." He dipped some bread in the chowder, and added, "This is really good, by the way."

"Thank you," said Deirdre with a blush forming on her cheeks.

After a beat, Jack asked, "So are both of your parents scyllas, then, or do you have some relatives from other species?"

"Just about every demi-human has at least one somewhere in the family tree," said Deirdre. "My grandfather on my mother's side was a human sailor. A fishing-boat captain, actually."

"Oh?" said Jack with a smile. "Did he catch your grandma in his fishing-net or something?"

"Or something," said Deirdre, smiling back. She didn't elaborate.

Jack fell silent, monetarily lost in thought.

Before it could get awkward, Deirdre said, "Surely you must have a million more questions. It's okay, I don't mind answering them."

"I guess I'm just trying to pace myself," said Jack. "And I don't want to sound rude." After a moment, he resumed: "So… are you actually from Ireland, or—I guess—the Irish Sea?"

Deirdre smiled and shook her head. "The Irish Sea is on the _east_ coast of Ireland. I'm from the North Atlantic, off the _western_ shore. There are lots of merfolk in those waters, of all different kinds!"

"That is… incredibly cool to find out," said Jack honestly. In truth, he was kind of loving this, fantasy-nerd that he was. Then something else occurred to him. "Earlier, you were really surprised that I could see your tentacles. How does that work?"

"You mean, how can I be a scylla and not have my picture plastered all over tabloids and the internet?"

"Yeah. Is it magic, or…?"

"Well it isn't a problem for most scyllas, since most of my people do, of course, live in the sea," said Deirdre.

"Naturally," said Jack.

"But for those few of us who have to live on dry land, or who choose to live up here, the truth of the matter is, it's really easy for us to hide what we are. Most of the time, I can get by with just wearing a dress long enough to cover my tentacles, and nobody is ever the wiser."

"Really!? That's surprising." The skepticism was evident in Jack's voice.

"Really," echoed Deirdre. "Humans are funny that way. Even if I slip up and accidentally show a little bit of tentacle, most of your kind are really quick to dismiss what they've seen with their own eyes. It's like, they don't _want_ to believe what they've seen, if it doesn't match their preconceived ideas about the world."

Jack thought back to earlier in the evening, when he had first entered Deirdre's house and thought he'd seen a fleeting glimpse of something strange in the kitchen, and also how he'd so readily dismissed it. "I guess you do have a point," he admitted. "But then, when you came out of the kitchen—well, you're clearly not hiding _anything_ under a dress right now, so I'm guessing there's more to the story."

Deirdre nodded. "Mm-hm. Whenever I expect to be in close quarters with someone, or in a situation where I'm afraid I might be discovered, I wear my seashells. Deirdre then surprised Jack by taking hold of her shell-bra-covered boobs and hefting them in either hand. "This," she explained, "is glamoured with a powerful illusion that makes me appear human to anyone who doesn't already know what I am."

Jack couldn't help but ogle when Deirdre drew his attention to her spectacular rack. "The seashells… are magical," he said, as if still trying to process the idea.

"It's just a simple bit of ocean-magic," said Deirdre. "I mean, it's not like I wear these things for comfort."

"Or modesty," said Jack quietly, before his brain had caught up to his mouth. Deirdre blushed, and Jack quickly stammered out, "Er, that is, I mean, they don't really leave much to the imagination, do they? Not that I mind, because you're really beautiful, but… um… yeah."

Deirdre's blushing intensified to the point where it was actually hiding her freckles. "Well under _normal_ circumstances, the illusion comes with _clothes_!" she said. "I still have no idea why it doesn't work on you. Either you must have an abnormally strong will for a human, or you're at least a little bit psychic."

"I don't think I'm psychic," said Jack, shaking his head.

"Well, we can figure that out some other time," said Deirdre. "Assuming there is another time," she added meekly.

Jack chuckled. "So far, at least, this is the best date I've been on in as long as I can remember. I'd say the chances are looking pretty good."

"Really!?"

"Assuming I somehow manage to quit putting my foot in my mouth," said Jack. "I would like to see you again after tonight. I like you."

"I like you too." Deirdre was leaning with her elbow on the table and her hand holding up her chin now, gazing flirtatiously into Jack's eyes. "So, what would you like to do after dinner?"

"I don't know," said Jack. "What would you normally do on a first date? Go see a movie?"

Deirdre frowned. "I… don’t actually go on many dates," she admitted. "In the past, whenever I’ve tried relationships with humans, it hasn’t ended well."

"I can imagine," said Jack with some sympathy.

"No, I don’t think you can," said Deirdre sadly. "To have someone that you really liked—someone you thought might even be _the one_ —suddenly look at you with such _horror_ , once they know what you really are…" She was suddenly on the verge of tears now, until Jack reached across the table and took her hand in his.

"Hey," he said, giving Deirdre’s hand a comforting squeeze, "I'm not going anywhere. Let's go out and do something fun."

Deirdre sniffled and wiped her eyes with a tentacle, keeping both of her human hands on Jack's. "Okay," she said, once she'd managed to compose herself. "A movie sounds nice. Let's do that."


End file.
